


Though they are clothed in night, they do not despair

by Joysweeper



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joysweeper/pseuds/Joysweeper
Summary: “Praise the light of late November, the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones. Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees; though they are clothed in night, they do not despair. Praise what little there’s left: the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls, shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory, the remains of summer. Praise the blue sky that hasn’t cracked yet. Praise the sun slipping down behind the beechnuts, praise the quilt of leaves that covers the grass: Scarlet Oak, Sweet Gum, Sugar Maple. Though darkness gathers, praise our crazy fallen world; it’s all we have, and it’s never enough.” — Barbara Crooker, “Praise Song”It's hard for Scout on Mandalore, but she will endure.





	Though they are clothed in night, they do not despair

**Author's Note:**

> Another old ficlet from an old RP, this is setting up why Scout might jump at the chance to go to another reality. Going to say up front that I'm no fan of Karen Traviss.

“Tallisibeth, when you think about it, really, the Order kind of deserved it.”

Grunting noncommittally so he wouldn’t just say he was ignoring her, Scout poked at the fire and fervently wished Bardan Jusik would shut up. She knew better than to voice the wish, and nothing had happened today that she could bring up to deflect him. Even though she'd had to learn to be better at hiding how she felt this was too obviously close to her heart. He’d have enjoyed the rise, the vigorous debate, he’d have probably gotten physical to make a point she couldn’t deflate. Jusik had absorbed the Mandalorian way well.

She remembered seeing him a few times in the Temple, one of hundreds of vague tall shapes, older Padawans who wouldn’t make Knight in time to take her as their Padawan in turn. Jusik should have washed out long before getting that far. It would have been less of a waste to abandon the Agricultural Corps, or to become a mercenary from outside of the Order's reach altogether.

“Honestly, taking slaves! That’s what the clone troopers were made as, you know. _Slave soldiers_. I knew it was wrong right from the start. No wonder it happened. You’ll be happier, Tallisibeth, when you put on the _beskar’gam_ and fight for real, you’ll see.” Scout wondered now if his vehemence came from the same place as Kina Ha’s, a desperate desire to see the universe as fair and thus the dead had done something to deserve it all, or if it was all just parroting what the Mandalorians said, because this was point for point something she'd heard more than once. She wanted to ask.

“Get me more of that ujj,” she said instead. He passed her a wrapped piece of dense cake and she filled her mouth with it. The sticky stuff was cloying and stuck to her teeth, but it gave her a good reason to be silent. Sometimes he just went on about these things and she could just... not listen, but the other Mandalorians had been going on today about how true Mando’a men are never ignored when they speak.

“I don’t regret it,” he said firmly. “Never for a moment. The Mando’ade are more a brotherhood than the Jedi ever were, and your conscience is clean. We go after criminals and military targets anyway, it’s the same - are you going somewhere?”

She’d gotten to her feet. “I need to stretch my legs. Too long sitting, you know? See you later, Bard’ika.”

He smiled to hear her use the pet name they used with him and let her go. Scout headed aimlessly off into the veshok trees and forced herself pity him. A mercenary trying to believe his life was more honorable now than when he’d protected civilians and never thought of compensation, because he could never go back and what was the use in wishing?

It was harder than hating him, or Kina Ha, or any of these people, even the clones who’d deserted what was now the Empire and gloried in being able to dismiss a 'commander'. Out of sight, Scout closed her eyes. It was so hard, sometimes, to control the anger and despair. But the harder way was the better way. She would not hate. It wasn’t Jedi. Instead of letting it fester, she would give her pain to the Force, and let it flow over her and away.

Master Fy-Tor-Ana, who since the fall had also called herself Solace had died today, and several other Jedi whose names Scout wasn’t sure of, who she'd met in passing at best. Maybe Solace and the Erased had finally taken too big a risk, maybe it was that asteroid she'd heard about where Jedi were gathering. Scout had no idea - she’d just come out of meditation to find herself sure that Solace was gone. It had been noteworthy because Jedi were dying less often by now. Those who were left - if there were more than here at Kyrimorut and those two still on Coruscant, and there had to be, there _had_ to be - they were better at hiding.

“Why am I here?” Scout asked in a whisper. Leaves rustled in the wind. “Why me and Ha and Jusik?” Solace had run a resistance movement. Pavan and Tarak, who were still alive as far as Scout knew, found meaningful work of their own. Here... Ha and Jusik couldn’t get past the pain so they did nothing but jeer, if she put the most charitable spin on them that she could. She couldn’t get past hers enough to help them - to really _want_ to help them, to not think of them as horrible in the back of her mind. But couldn’t she do anything else?

Some of the Mandalorians were okay. Some could spar without it being a thinly veiled hunt for weakness, some didn't radiate hostility if she talked about those she had loved and the life that she missed, some weren't so wrapped up with their own ways that they saw any others as some kind of attack. Two of them had decided to adopt her, and she knew they meant well, for all that they thought she was deprived from having grown up in a creche and she found their nuclear family claustrophobic and overwhelming. Some of them, Scout thought she could have been friends with, if not for their fellows, if not for the constant awareness of her own dependence.

She heard crashing in the brush and identified it as a shatual. Rather than go back to the fire, Scout set to climbing one of the trees. The branches were well spaced and it was easy going to anyone who knew what they were doing. She broke through the canopy quickly, and closed her eyes against the brightness of the stars.

This was a good time and place to meditate, to try and let go of... everything. Even her love of the Jedi as they had been was an attachment, wasn’t it? She would never stop loving the Jedi way, no matter what she said to survive. She would never stop looking for a way out of this stasis. But she would try to ease her heart.

Scout got her breathing under control and found a decent place to brace against the branches. The mantra was there, always. As she survived it would survive. Willingly Scout lost herself to it.

“There is no emotion...”


End file.
